“Life is a preparation for the future; and the best preparation for the future is to live as if there were none.” Albert Einstein
I can’t talk about time without talking about age, because they are inseparable and within each of us. I can tell you, even though it is likely a ways off for you, at some mysterious moment, age starts making a very compelling case for itself, suddenly getting an invitation for a seat at the table.
I think when you were young and a little more foolish than you are now, it was all about time, because there seemed to be an endless supply. Sure, you could certainly be in a hurry back then, but it was mostly about nearsighted impatience, rather than some prophetic sense of your mortality, amidst all those artificial milestones.
My age is with me all the time, but I view these two words very differently. They’re like sitting together, unobtrusively, asses on the seesaw of consciousness, one besting the other, until age finally bangs its bottom on the ground of reality. Time left seems to stealthily jockey in front of time ahead. Trust me, it is much more than a subtle word change.
I would say that time got me writing in the first place and age took over the wheel a while ago. In a nutshell, I was concerned I’d croak before my grandson and I would have the chance to truly connect, an old warrior, handing over the spear of life to his only heir.
Sharing my stories became my insurance policy, my bet to defy time, a bet I can no longer lose, an homage to the power of the printed word. My internal vocabulary has grown as well. The accumulation of time colors the language of age, sometimes even surprising me when I give it voice.
I know I spend a lot of time on getting older and being older, hitting it from as many different angles as possible each time I share. While it could easily feel boring and repetitive to some of you, I don’t think it gets nearly enough attention, a good enough reason for me to try and explain how it feels. Believe me, you are all on your way here and it will surprise you once you get here. I also know, you can’t take my word for it and that’s cool.
I think of my grandson and his evolution, even at his young age. It feels like I’m living with his first major transition into being his own person, hopefully without feeling he’s betrayed his parents too much.The boy has just begun his journey and it’s precious to share pieces of it, the puzzle of a person slowly becoming who he is meant to be.
Like every other time in your life, unimaginable things keep happening as you get older and it doesn’t stop until we stop. I am not sure how you would define the process. It has to be different for each of us, because we are uniquely our own. I do think you have to loosen your grip, because you can’t trip up transiency, the already spontaneous nature of moment to moment life.
Many years ago, I thought the idea of Impermanence, the Buddha’s first, lightening rod, deep in to the heart of the mind, was right on the money. Dealing with the death of my father when I was nine, branded my heart forever with the truth of life, unbeknownst to me at the time. It remained a gestating concept for many, many years, until time and age teamed up yet again to get my undivided attention.
When I moved to Santa Fe, NM in ’87, I was formally introduced to the Buddha and we became fast friends. I don’t know how many bubbles I’m going to pop, but let me tell you that time is not some finite concept. It exists in your mind and the idea that it’s a set-in-stone measure is a sad delusion, conjured to provide some comfort in the moment.
On a number of occasions in Santa Fe, I watched Tibetan monks painstakingly create breathtaking mandalas, meticulously painting millions of grains of sand, placing them into one-of-a-kind images. When they finished, they swept it away. The breath of life operates much the same. Every damn time you exhale, you got a shot at a freakin’ mandala. If you blow it away, it will return just as fast. You can’t hold the sands of time, no one can.
I think time is an elusive measure and age is a concept, even though you could say it is the aggregation of time. I know for certain my age has forced me to continually reassess how I spend my time and what matters to me is colored by it.
I am sharing this story, because at my age, it seems like the right time.